


Perpetual

by IrisCarlyle



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisCarlyle/pseuds/IrisCarlyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer finally comes face to face with his father and learns some facts about Chloe he was not prepared for. He must then begin a harrowing journey to save her soul and what it is to become. Please comment if you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perpetual

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, I mostly write first-person and haven't done third-person in years so I'm sorry if it sounds weird! Had to retrain my brain. If this is liked, I'm going to write a sequel because the ending just begs for it. The title comes from the definition of Perpetual: occurring often, never ending, uninterrupted, which is kinda how I think Lucifer thinks of Chloe, a feeling that will never cease. It also comes into play with the history I have made for her. Tell me if you like!!

God takes a drag from a cigarette.

Lucifer stands in a misty room, the tunnels of smoke looking either like pillars of a grand cathedral or translucent fabric falling. He stands, a black suit, tall and lanky, out of sorts and looking at anywhere but the oddly human looking man sitting on a marble bench at the base of the room. The room has no beginnings or no endings, it’s a lopsided circle with dips in the smoke that resemble almost-caves. Granite, Lucifer thinks to himself. Neither have spoken a word, and he has not seen his father in several millennia, and he will not be the one to break the silence. 

God breathes out the smoke and allows it to melt into the walls, neither blending with it or passing through it. He twirls the cigarette in his fingers and examines it like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. Lucifer’s hands betray him, bored as they lay tight up against his back. He reaches to the misty walls, interested and curious. 

“Don’t,” is the first word he says. He sounds much more different than what Lucifer remembered, older now and more cracked. His voice fell in a great wave, and he only said one word. It’s enough to freeze Lucifer right in his tracks, allow goose-bumps to crash all over his body. “I won’t touch that if I were you.”

Lucifer does not face him. He’s inches from the wall, wanting to touch it, to burn himself or to be wiped from existence. Anything but here. He’d rather be anywhere than here.

“It’s uh, made out of Angel Dust.” God explains, taking another drag. “One touch will pulse so much electricity into your body that you’ll be in a coma for a hundred years. And you don’t want that do you, not when you have matters to return to. That is, unless you’re me or holding what I’m holdin.” God shakes something, trying to tantalize Lucifer, but he doesn’t move from his spot. 

“Come on Lucifer,” he whines after what feels like a year of silence. Strangely, the cigarette smoke doesn’t reek. It doesn’t even smell like it’s burning. “You can’t be that mad at me, can you?” He looks exactly as Lucifer remembered him: shortest of all winged men, with a tousle of sandy blonde hair that’s unkempt. Splotches on his face that resemble an old user of some type of drug, and pale, boring brown eyes. He has a short, raggedy patchy beard the same color of his hair and wears a bathrobe with faded gray slippers. 

“You’re a slob,” Lucifer says to him, rounding so fast that he’s even dizzy. His nostrils flare, like they do when he’s getting heated. “Out of all of creation you chose the form of a meth addict? After all these years?” 

God doesn’t say anything but simply sighs, eyes looking directly into him. They’re still the same tired wrinkled-brown. He snaps his fingers, and the splotches disappear and a suit forms, but everything else remains. He’s still short, still unattractive, still looks out of place in this pseud-palace. “Better?” He asks.

Lucifer’s nostrils remained flared, and he looks offended. “Don’t you have any other forms you can take? You designed the world in seven days for hell’s sake, the least you can do is change your wardrobe every couple of years.” Even in times like these, terribly distressing and exhausting situations, he still manages to be fine.

“I have as much control of my appearance as you do. Why do you think I sent everything else to do my work? Besides, it suits me. The poor homeless man is what I embody.” Is what he says, looking even smaller on the bench. Lucifer looks over him so much it becomes nauseating: trying to remember this moment. It’s not like he hadn’t yearned to see this man in a couple millenia. It’s not like he hadn’t spent sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling thinking of that molted, abused face - 

And now, he was looking into it, a dull bird next to his beautiful grace. And he’d never felt more small in his entire life. “You send everyone to do your own work because you’re a coward,” is all he says in rebuttal, but the words come out small and crashing. He doesn’t believe what he just said and neither does God. 

He jumps in the opportunity, though quietly, and finishes his cigarette. “Aren’t you wondering why I brought you here?” God says through exhale, then drops his cigarette butt. It floats downwards into the mesh below the ground, this isn’t earth and anything can happen here. The laws of man have disintegrated. 

“Yes I was in the middle of something -” but Lucifer doesn’t have to explain himself, God already knows, he sees all. He hushes himself out of embarrassment, straightens his suit, and looks onward into the pale eyes of God with a solemness and composure he’d previously lacked. This is business, not a welcoming party, not a moment of grand entanglement between father and son. This meeting lacks all emotion. And so Lucifer resorts to what he knows best: King of Hell, Hades, seriousness; everything he’d despised in life. “Yes,” he finally says, “I’d like to know.”

“It’s about your dear Detective...” Of course this is why he’d bring him here, snatch her away from him, the one thing he cherished. There was a slight dilation of the pupils but no gasp in surprise, no angrily rage spurted from his lips at the man sitting in front of him. Lucifer simply listened. “You want to know her origins, don’t you?” 

“Kinda leaves the mystery out of this episode of Blue’s Clues don’t you think?” Lucifer said cockily though still composed. No matter the situation, he could always get that one-liner in there. God looked at him with mild interest, like a tired friend at the end of a long night, but said nothing. “You’ve summoned me for such father, go on.”

“I’d been wanting to save this for as long as possible, believe me.” God said, continuing right where he left off like this was rehearsed. “But I think it’s time you ought to know.”

“How long have you known?” Was all Lucifer said. 

“Since the archangel Michael turned in his wings for a human life when he fell in love.” God was quiet then, the pale brown meeting the dark, raven beauty. Of course Lucifer was his favorite, he looked like everything God could’ve been had he not been given the form he was given.

“Believe me I know my brother, he would not do that.” Lucifer actually laughed out loud at the joke God was telling him. Things like that cannot be true. Michael of all individuals would never trade in his wings. He was too power hungry, loved being at the top, loved being God’s favorite once Lucifer was disposed of. He met him once in Hell, right after the fall, brimming with glee with Lucifer finally being gone.

“But he did,” God sighed. “Him and his wife have been recycled through reincarnation for nearly a millennium. If he ever wants to return to me he simply has to raise a golden coin, as he has his memories from time to time. But he loves his dear Angelica...” God looked away, pained and alone. “But that’s not important. What’s important is that he had a child before he gave up his wings with this woman, a girl named Sera.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Lucifer mumbled.

“It’s a good story, and it’s important, so hush. Unlike you, who have put a spell of infertility on yourself, Michael did not do such. Him and Angelica raised this child - the only child they had in this life, and at the end of his life he did trade in his wings. But it was too late. He had birthed himself a Nephilim.”

“Those were wiped out years ago,” Lucifer hissed with a deep rooted agitation. “I remember the battle, I remember the scars I had from those beasts. How does this have anything to do with the Detective?” 

“You see,” God continued. “Like I said, it gets interesting. Sera was never told of her origins, and she was never raised under a firm hand. They were kind, she was not forced to the streets, not shown the darkness of the world. Wherever she went, only lightness grew. Her only sin was a child out of wedlock, a girl too that she gave up for adoption because she wanted to be a nun and serve in my court. Michael never knew of his grandchild. Sera was a Nephilim, but her powers never came into focus. Neither did any of her children, they only carried lightness to them. As the line continued: a presession of daughters, only children too, the last angelic line was all but forgotten. They’d bred with man, had mortal children - given the fact Sera lived to be two-hundred years old - even I had to search in vain for the silver thread of Nephilim. That was until...”

“It can’t be.” Was all Lucifer said.

“She has no siblings, and a single daughter. Her mother, like the rest of the line, have been very human. That was, until you saved Chloe’s life...” God got quiet, watching Lucifer with what appeared to be pity.

“Will she become one of them?” Was all Lucifer asked. The phrase of course, of course, of course continued in his head like a door continuously smashing itself into his head.

God shrugged. “Probably not, but even she has more powers than the rest of your line. Instead of a pale silver thread I see something burning hot inside of her. This is why I resurrected you Lucifer, because you two have come intertwined. She is no longer a human, she is a Nephilim, and although she is small she is mighty.” God’s tone turned hot and sour, “and you know that one of them can send five of your brothers into a coma for half a century.”

“But what if she remains good?”

“She has the possibility to do what no Nephilim has done before: become an angel. She could join the ranks of your sisters, though small, but otherwise if you can’t save her I’ll have to personally kill her.” God said without remorse.

It was that line that awoke Lucifer from his nightmare, and his eyes flashed red, he took a step towards God and nearly growled. “Do not doubt me father.”

God took no accord of this anger. He knew he could not die, that Lucifer’s threats were meaningless. “Good. I’m counting on you, you’ve been warned.” 

And then he simply snapped his fingers and Lucifer awoke in his bed.


	2. Etymology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer begins the long, harrowing journey to try to save Chloe's soul.

When looking into the etymology of the word, it is important to know that the definition of Nephilims are giants. They equal things large in stature: a goliath, of sorts. Of course, the etymology isn’t a direct definition and should never be taken into full accord.

No, Nephilims are much larger than giant.

Lucifer woke up in a cold sweat, a burning and searing pain where he cut his wings off. The scars were always a dull thud, never ceasing, but most days he could put it to the back of his mind. For some reason - okay, for the reasoning of where he was last night - the scars feel as fresh as when God melted them onto his back during his creation. 

He got up, barely clothed, alone in his sweeping penthouse and walked over to his mirror. On his back, where the scars were, were what appeared to be fingerprints on the fresh pinkness, almost bloody, scars. It looked like new skin. Closer in on inspection, which took difficulty by himself, he drew in a slight intake of breath at what he saw.  
The brittle appearance of new bone, and the specks of down feathers, though small, were coming from his scars. “That son of a bitch,” Lucifer whispered. 

New wings, a gift from God. And this time, they were as black as a raven.

Quickly he clothed himself in a robe, he wouldn’t tell anyone - not even Maze - about last night, or any of it. No, he had bigger problems to take into account.  
-  
Ten minutes later he was knocking on the Detective's door.

She opened it with hesitation, tired eyes and pre-shower hair. Trixie’s voice could be heard from inside, screeching a song that came from the radio. Lucifer heard something about pancakes and was immediately into the door without even asking, starved.

“You’re just gonna barge in and not even tell me why you’re here?” He heard Chloe call moments later when he was already halfway across the living room towards the kitchen.

“Oh yes, but don’t you see we have more pressing matters?” He responded, watching Trixie trying to break eggs into a metal bowl. 

“Fine,” there was a motion of her arms swaying upwards. “We’ll eat then we’ll talk.”

“That’s exactly how I roll Decker.” He didn’t look at her much while she made pancakes with her daughter. He tried to look anywhere but her. With the newfound information, the revelation that she was a Nephilim, he tried to detach himself. To know that if he couldn’t get his answers she’d die, be condemned to a fate in hell for all eternity. 

Something crossed his mind, a thought and a wondering of where the rest of her line ended up, her earliest mothers. Sera, most of all, and her bastard child left in an orphanage. The ones with the strongest amount of angel blood. Where did they go? They were nephilim but they committed no wrong, Sera was a nun.   
He knew he’d have to involve Amenadiel eventually, with his heavenly origins that didn’t trap him to the earth. Of course, Lucifer was only in this predicament for so much longer, with his new gift. 

“You’re unusually quiet,” Chloe said to him while she was helping Trixie flip pancakes.

“I had a long night,” was all he said, watching them. “Had a heart to heart with my pops.” Of course, she wouldn’t believe him. No one ever does. He mostly says these things out of honesty now rather than trying to prove a point, trying to find his own normal.

“Oh was it good?” She asked, asking without really listening to what he said. He noticed how she still needed to take a shower, her dark brown clumps taking away from the blonde. She was still wearing last night’s makeup and a robe the same color as God’s. Lucifer simply glances over these facts, her skin has become something so occurrent to his eyes he no longer needs to study her. He knows her too well. “You don’t talk about him often, I mean -” She said without really even looking at him.

“I talk about him all the time.” He said, but she simply gave him the same look every other mortal did: you need to move on, you’re living a lie. You’re not a real deity. The look was fleeting, and followed by a sigh as she returned to helping her daughter.

Lucifer looked at the young child with Nephilim blood. God said that the line had merged too much with man, that it was no longer important. That the only coal still burning was in Chloe’s blood because he had changed her course in life. He wondered how it would affect Trixie, if she would ever grow to her full potential as her mother does.

A memory crossed Lucifer’s mind.

-  
Him and his brothers, all fighting. A young child with razor teeth and glowing green eyes, pale skin and clumpy hair. It had claws dripping in blood, but still had a sense of innocence to it with it’s white night gown. 

The Nephilim terrorized the earth before Lucifer’s fall from grace. He was still strong then, pounding white wings that tried to evade the biting Nephilim. Ten of them circled them like rabid dogs.

Some were men, some women, but most children. They all were pale with green eyes and sharp, skin-tight bones. Zombie-like creatures. When they bled it was golden ichor that turned most anything to flame. Lucifer speared one and blood flew on his cheek, eating a hole in his skin. He screamed as the child raced towards his ankles with its snapping jowls. He looked away -   
-

“Lucifer, you’re sweating.” Chloe’s hand was on his shoulder. “Come on, you wanted to talk? Take a pancake.” When he looked at her eyes he could almost see the green. I wonder if your blood can burn, he thought to himself but quieted the memory.

Trixie ate and watched cartoons. Lucifer and Chloe sat at the table, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. “What’s so important you needed to come over early?” She asked, shoving a pancake in her mouth.

“I need you to find someone for you. I guess you could call him my brother -” He said, thinking of the first person he needed to talk to, his brother Michael. “I believe he goes by the name Michael Arch, and he has a wife named Angelica.”

“Okay.” She said without taking much of it into consideration. “Why?”

“Detective I am allowed to have my privacy. If this not a land where a man can have his secrets?” Lucifer asked, offended.

“Not if you’re you,” she said in response, huffing as she downed another pancake. Lucifer barely touched his own. “But it’s no worry, I’ll find out eventually what’s up. Do you have any idea where he lives?”

“Somewhere in California.” When he woke up, God implanted a vision in his head: a light blue house, the smell of sea breeze, the golden gate in the distance but of the picture but within sensing area. The simple name of Michael Arch was enough for Lucifer to know who he was looking for. “Between LA and San Francisco, if I do believe.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” was all Chloe said. “That’s a lot of area.” 

“He’s an important person.” Lucifer said, drawing the words out on his thick accent and nearly glaring at her even though she wasn’t looking at him. 

“He’s another one of your brothers?” She asked.

“It’s a big family, I might as well start a family gathering sometime soon.” Once he was done asking for his favor, five pancakes were downed by him. He was very hungry, and for good reason, with his metamorphosis growing more and more painful on his back. What else did God do to him that he didn’t remember?

Why did he even need his wings? He was an angel nonetheless, and wings don’t change the molecular design, they just add flight and some pretty neat extra powers. But he didn’t need them. He’d lived without them for the last five years. Those five years that now have felt like an eon.

“Well I’ll try to get something on him, but if I can’t I don’t know what to tell you,” was all Chloe said while she shrugged. She pulled herself from her chair, “and now you need to go because I need to go to work and take Trixie to school.”

“I have work I need to do too,” Lucifer said as he made himself to the door quickly.

“You know, I liked you better when you were honest with me.” She said, and he didn’t see her face but he already knew it was a begging shame. 

For some odd reason he turned to face her instead of leaving right away. He was afraid, he admitted to himself. More scared than when mom escaped hell, more scared than when he was cast from grace, more scared than when he saw God last night. He was scared because she was damned to his halls unless he did something about it. Lucifer tried to see her with thin bones, green eyes, something she could easily become.

I need to speak to Sera, was all he thought to himself when he looked away. “Don’t worry about it Detective,” he said. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Uh-huh.” He heard, and then he exited her house. He felt terrible, keeping secrets from her, not being his usual cheery self. Not cracking jokes. 

His scars itched.

The second he left her house a familiar dark skinned man fluttered around him. “You smell different,” was all Amenadiel said. Time was slowed, he could feel it.

“I take it you know brother?” Lucifer said with a sigh/growl, trying to avoid the bullshit. “If you know let’s get to the point.”

“I know I have to take you to see Dad’s favorite nun,” was all he said, eyes looking into Lucifer with both annoyance and conviction. “Pucker up.”

Lucifer sighed once again, resigned, and allowed himself to be transported to wherever the hell he as to go.


	3. Seraphim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer meets with Sera, the daughter of Michael, and gets more of the answers about Chloe's origins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this please comment, it means a lot to me to hear your guys input!

Heaven is as relentless as Lucifer remembers. It’s forgivable and calm, milky whites and pure, pristine blues. There are mountains where you want to see mountains, and oceans where you want oceans. No two people see it the same way. That is, unless you’re visiting someone’s personal heaven, then you see what they see.

Lucifer didn’t get to see his own personal heaven, he didn’t deserve the luxury.

Sera’s personal heaven is on a cove, children - either real or fake play in the surf below her house - she’s an old lady who sits in a rocking chair overlooking the children and knitting. Lucifer watches her on top of the crest of a hill, looking at the small house that’s pure white. In the distance the bay clears to the other side, and golden leaves crest over the hill before it fades. It’s beautiful, angelic and pure.

The sky turns from midday to sunset. Sera does not leave her rocking chair in the distance, but eventually the children do disperse. Lucifer does not move. He does not want to face whatever ghost it is his to correct.

In some universe the angels are standing above him, calling to him and telling him to move. 

-  
When he fell from grace it was a summer day in heaven. To the east of God’s domain lightly golden leaves could be seen. Everyone was out, playing music and writing poetry and watching the humans on their barren rock. Lucifer sat in the library, hair golden and bleached then. He was reading a book then, going over some mathematical or physiological equation, he can no longer recall.

And then the gong hit. And the first evil human died. And hell was created.

And someone needed to be blotted from the light.

God came to him then, as did the rest of the angels, and God took Lucifer in silver shackles down a long staircase. His eyes were tired, Lucifer remembers, so tired. Sores opening up with every step. Uneven colored hair. Blotchy beard.  
Pale brown eyes. 

The angels sung to him with their methodical voices. Michael smiled. Several of them smiled. God did not smile. 

They locked him a cave. “Create,” God told him. The cave was endless and dark. Lucifer would say words to it and things would happen. He said things like deepen, and steel, and throne, and demon. And all was as he said. 

Lucifer’s hair turned dark then. He never saw the sun again. His wings were the only heavenly thing he ever saw.  
-

When the memory ceased, Lucifer’s composure broke. He walked down the hill at the end of sunset to where Sera was. She did not move from her rocking chair all day. He was deeply bored by her consistency. Nobody rocks and knits. Nobody is that boring.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” was all she said without seeing him. She rocked, lifeless and boring.

“For bloody sakes woman you could’ve made me tea then!” Lucifer snorted, annoyed. He still hadn’t seen her face. She had something around her face, the things nuns wear. She probably had red hair, Michael was pale with fiery red hair. All the angels called him fireball.

“You know I never thought I’d meet the devil,” she said, still not facing him. “I’d spent the majority of my life praying for you - ”

“I don’t need prayers. I need you to talk.” Lucifer said, cutting her off. 

She turned to him then, pulling herself from the chair. He was right, because when she pulled off her head garb, she had tight red curly hair. Livid green eyes, like the Nephilim do, but she was pure. Full faced for being old and wrinkly. There was a pureness to her, something he recognized in Chloe. When she took a step towards him it was with conviction, her eyes never seeing enough. They moved in endless patterns. “You’re handsome,” she practically whispered.

“I get that a lot Granny. Can we just get to the point? I really don’t want to be here -” Lucifer tried to not let the apprehension get to him but heaven wasn’t his home. It would never be his home again.

The spots where his wings were growing ached even more.

“From what I understand you’re my uncle.” Was all Sera said, leaning on her rocking chair.

“You know?” He asked, the apprehension leaving for curiosity.

“I mean, I didn’t know until I finally died. Usually when you go to heaven you look for your family and when you realize your parents are busy living different lives without you - ” Sera rambled on even more, rubbing her rings. She resigned to sighing after her mantra was finished. “But what do you want to know?”

“I want to know about your sins you coot.” The quicker Lucifer could get out of here, the better. Funny, because he stood on the hill for what felt like ages, but once he was finally talking to the Nephilim all he wanted to do was leave.

Sera’s eyes widened. “You mean Celeste? I barely ever met the babe. She was a mistake -”

“Obviously, you joined a nunnery. They’re so boring. Catholic girls are such teases.” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “But her name was Celeste?”

Sera nodded. “That’s what I named her, if it carried on then I don’t remember. My parents never knew about her, nor her father. But I don’t want to focus on it. It’s a part of my past I’ve chosen to ignore and I wish to keep it that way.” 

Lucifer was agitated, he nearly growled at the woman. “Well maybe if your line didn’t carry then we could get over this issue.”

“What do you mean?” Was all she asked through a furrowed brow.

“You mean you don’t know?” Now he was actually surprised. 

“I know I have angel blood in my veins, yes. But I don’t understand how that’s important.” Sera had the rocking chair face Lucifer and she resigned to it, though her eyes never leaving his face. She was good at maintaining a sense of composure, something about rocks and the earth seemed to represent her. In her he saw Chloe’s determination but also Michael’s general-sense. He was a high angel, he was the one that stood at the head of most charges in the battles before Lucifer was cast away. He was the one that took Lucifer’s spot in the library, and in sparring practice afterwards.

How Chloe managed to have his blood in her, Lucifer did not lot like to think. At the same time of him being pure and light, he was also a massive pain in the ass. He had a large ego - not unlike Lucifer, but he had also grown out of that self-righteous bullshit game, no he had become too humble for that after living all these years in the dark.

Something crossed his mind then, some inescapable truth. Some itching piece of self-worth that tickled at the base of his neck.

His scars burned even more.

“You don’t know what you are?” He said without asking. He wanted this to be expedited as quickly as possible. He didn’t belong here anymore, no matter how much he wanted to convince himself he was one of them. He had lived too many years in the dark, and then too many years amongst humans to safely call himself an angel anymore. He was more demon now. Or something else entirely. 

Sera shook her head, “you forget that I’m old. You were cast down only a few years before my birth. My father always talked of a brother of his that he couldn’t stand and that you were in a jail of some sorts. I get it now. But we never really talked of his past, other than his siblings. The occasional slip of a good but distant father.”

“And your mother?” Lucifer asked.

“She was soft and kind, the daughter of a general. They don’t make them like her anymore though. She was contained because she was a woman, but she was also ragingly intelligent and had a very strong belief in God. I don’t know how to explain it. My mother was simple but at the same time she was complex.” Sera said, breaking the eye contact and looking down, sighing at something on the ground. Some memory. Something nonexistent to this time period.

“I understand,” Lucifer said. He didn’t really understand. He’d never spent a lot of time learning about humans in their natural state. Nobody good ever went to hell. And then nobody good ever lives in LA either. He’d traded one hell for another, softer version.

“So what am I Lucifer?” She asked, looking into him with her piercing green eyes. 

“I don’t understand how this bullshit falls onto me when there are a bunch of perfectly good angelic creatures to do this,” Lucifer sighed nearly growling. His eyes rolled, but his body kept a good composure. “You’re a Nephilim.” 

“Like the giants?” Sera asked, gasping in breath. 

“Yes but no.” Lucifer explained, “they weren’t really giants. They’re the product of angels and man. They died out years before you were born. When humans were first created angels would go to earth and fuck around, and their children would become… they’d become monsters. It was a long war, with your father at the head, to vanquish them. You’re a special case though. You were raised by a loving father. Most Nephilim aren’t loved, they were the product of angels and prostitutes. They lived in squalor, in poverty, killing others for a piece of bread. Angels are primal beings, and so are Nephilim. One instance of anger at an early age can cause a Nephilim to turn into a monster. If they are raised pure however, they become...” Lucifer’s sentence ceased and he looked at her with a mixture of wonder and annoyance.

“So you’re telling me I’m the best case possible?” She asked, unphased but slightly taken aback. She’d have the rest of her life to deconstruct this information, go to the study and learn all she could. She had all the time in the world to learn, but she didn’t have all the time in the world to talk to me.

“Almost. A Nephilim has the potential to become an angel. You, nor any of your children have become so. The line has mixed too much with man, it’s become cloudy. The genetics are still there, but they’re old and tired. No Nephilim has reached angel status. There are certain qualifications that are outside of my range of understanding.” The longer Lucifer stayed here, the stronger his agitation grew at the situation. “I need to know what happened to your child and I know you know. You are too much like your father to not care about what happens to your kin. It would’ve driven him insane not knowing what happened to his kid, which is why when he found out Angelica was pregnant he decided to raise it before killing it. So what happened to Celeste Sera?”

Sera sighed, resigned. “I didn’t take her to the orphanage. I gave her to her father, a disciple of my father. He was a good man. He knew I wanted to be a nun, but he loved me, and I loved him. The child was an accident. He wouldn’t let me take the child to the orphanage, so he decided to raise her. I left when Celeste was three, and I saw once when she was sixteen. She was beautiful Lucifer. And he was a good father. Better than my own. He married when she was young, and she had a bounty of little siblings. What happened to her I do not know. Her father died when she was twenty, and then she went off the grid. I guess nothing terrible happened to her because if it had she would’ve turned into a monster.” Her eyes were glistening with tears. “But I don’t like to think about it.” 

Lucifer resigned, he got all the information that he needed. “Thank you Sera”

“You’re leaving aren’t you?”

“Well I’m not here as a Saint am I? I have business to return to. Your existence has made this life harrowing for me -”

“You love her don’t you?” Sera blurted. 

Lucifer’s brow furrowed, he was taken aback. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“My descendent, the one with angel blood, there would be no other reason for you to have come visit me if this hadn’t appeared in your daily life. You have to save someone, it’s only natural.” Sera explained, her eyes so sure and earnest it was almost like she willed it to be true.

“I don’t love her, but I have to save her.” Lucifer explained, already trying to leave.

“If you have to save her but you do not love her what’s the point?” Sera asked, practically shoving a dagger into his heart. 

“I don’t know,” Lucifer whispered. He had to get out of here quick, before she unearthed any other sleeping demons deep inside his chest cavity. 

A smile fell of Sera. “Good luck Lucifer Morningstar.” And that was the last time Lucifer ever saw her again, the first Nephilim that did not burn the world.

When he was transported back to Earth by the wings of something that could fly, he heard singing. Beautiful angelic voices, the same ones he heard when he was led into hell for the first time. But this time he was going to Earth instead, and they still sung him to sleep.

Those bastards.


	4. Nephilim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback chapter describing the Nephilim and what they are. Not so much as carries the story but furthers the lore I've created

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please if you like this comment! It means the world to me to hear your guy's response to my writing!

The war of the Nephilim existed in the early days of humanity. It happened in the moments of the universe before Lucifer’s fall from grace. In the scheme of God’s plan these actions were seconds apart.

To Lucifer the actions felt centuries apart.

“Lucifer I need you down on the ground,” God said in the early stages of the Nephilim’s occurrence on Earth. The library was empty, given for one light burning at the end of a dark table. Lucifer spent so much time here it felt uncanny for him to ever leave it.

“No dad you need me here, reading up on these demons -” No one would ever take Lucifer as the scholar. He was cocky with bleached blonde hair then. He was so different. He didn’t make crude jokes about certain instances, and he was rather introverted. So much had changed.

“I need you on the front lines with your brothers,” God’s words were whispered and tiring. He didn’t look like the God you see in the movies. He was never that God. His frame was small as it pooled over the long oaken desk Lucifer had books streamed across. God was no more than 5’5 with those pale eyes. Those eyes were the only thing Lucifer thought of for years while he was in the dark. Some nights he was gourging them out, but most he was asking why and begging for forgiveness. 

In this moment, he wasn’t God’s favorite angel.

He never, from the moment of his first breath to the moment of him being locked away, did he think he was the favorite. He would read for hours upon hours, miss out on excursions to earth to understand humans. Lucifer knew the grand library better than he knew himself. He would always see God through the big windows, pacing in his bathrobe, listening to nothing in particular. But rarely would they speak.

It was only when he first came to Earth that he heard he was the favorite.

And that brought on a million questions.

“What you need is someone to read the books and figure out how to stop this threat,” Lucifer pleaded. 

God’s sigh shook Lucifer to the bone. It was tiresome, and when the father hung his head down Lucifer saw wisps of golden hair falling over his face. The strands were greasy and ill-looking. His composure was sullen for some time and then when he regained his frame his bones cracked. “I know.” He had a weird way of agreeing with people, like understand who they were but still fighting it. Lucifer would never understand why he’d never fight people for their beliefs. Why he did anything he did. “But I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Spread your wings and fly and you can resume your reading in the morning.”

God didn’t have wings. He was the most human-looking thing outside of humans. So God rarely left. Even when everyone else was flying around, on earth, God was stagnant. He did not move from the giant apparitional rock with the sweeping halls filled with books and armories. He did not leave the thousands of personal heavens stretching onwards in incomprehensible patterns. He was no angel, and yet he had created them.

Lucifer grew quiet, “and my books?”

“Will be here when you return.” God walked to a wall, sure and mighty, and pulled from it a golden staff, which he handed to Lucifer. It was a scepter, pointed and arched with a black onyx in the center. “Take this, it shall be your weapon.”

“I’ve never fought with one of these before,” Lucifer whispered, analyzing the arched blade. They were rare. Most angels wielded swords or bows, and none of which Lucifer knew wielded one of these. Not in common practice at least. 

“The stone is a shield,” God explained. “If pointed at something it sends out a pulse that temporarily paralyzes it. The blade is as sharp as anything else you’ve used.” 

“And why are you giving it to me?” Lucifer asked, the dark eyes meeting the pale. He was deeply intrigued. 

“Because you are the one that needs the most protection,” was God’s simple answer before he walked away. Whether it meant Lucifer was weak, or if he was the most valuable, he would never know.

 

Earth was ravaged. Humans screamed in squalor, Nephilim growled and angels pinned them and rolled them onto their backs before slashing at their throats. And yet, more came out of the woodworks.

Lucifer saw one Nephilim with a human’s arm in his mouth, carrying it around like a toy.  
He was not a fighter. He was a scholar of books that existed before man. Books that would come into existence, like Socrates and other things. Books that God pulled from ahead in the universe and gave to Lucifer but told him to be quiet about it. Books from, according to God, a different universe in a different time.

So when he stood on the earth in a white robe, bleached-blonde hair, and the scepter held with apprehension in his hands, he willed every power inside of him not to flee back up to heaven.

“Lucifer!” Called one angel he could not recall the name of, pinned beneath a Nephilim’s strong arms, “Lucifer help!”

The words barely registered to him and yet he lunged at the creature, stabbing it in the back of the neck with the contraption in his hands. Golden ichor flowed from the puncture wound and the angel escaped from the grasp of the creature, flying up into the air. The Nephilim’s eyes turned to Lucifer, a sickly glowing emerald green. It’s teeth were sharpened and gurgling, and it did not take into account the pain in it’s neck. It lunged at his face with it’s mouth, and Lucifer was frozen.

The angel he’d just saved gorged out it’s eyes moments before impact. It was a woman, named Azmiriel, one of the few female angels. She had golden fiery hair and was well muscled beneath her clothes. She gasped for breath, looked over Lucifer and snorted. Azmiriel was covered in blood, both her own and the Nephilim’s. “So you finally decide to show up and help us fight,” she said with accusation. 

“Thank you for saving me,” Lucifer rambled, quick to ignore the judgement in her eye.  
“I can say the same for you,” she responded though not without a note of disgust in her tone. Her glowing white wings drummed the air. They were silent for a moment, but then the dying Nephilim made of sound of deep displeasure into the void. 

It’s eyes were gouged out, it was blind and bleeding from it’s neck and yet it still wailed angrily at them. 

“Do they speak words?” Lucifer asked, pointing at the beaten thing.

“Only the name of their angelic parent,” Azmiriel said, watching it with the same note of contention as Lucifer. The fight had moved east, leaving only a barren wasteland a mile-wide around them.

“Phrayus, Phrayus...” the Nephilim gurgled, speaking of an angel that had gotten struck early in the battle and was wounded into a coma now. He would not awaken for many years and if angels weren’t immortal, he’d be dead already.

“You saved my life, do the honors.” Azmiriel said, snorting. “Cut off it’s head.”  
“Are we supposed to kill them?” Lucifer’s eyes were longing to be anywhere else. He was not a fighter. He did not like carnage. 

She nodded to him, “every second they are alive they grow stronger. Look at how the wound you gave it is already healing. It will be blind for life but sight is only one sense. Kill it, I’m not saving you again.” To prove her point she flew off after the other angels, leaving Lucifer stranded. 

Lucifer said a prayer when the metal met the bone, and the head flung several feet. The body turned golden for a second before melting away, leaving not a single trace of it’s existence. The head however, glistened in the sunlight. The creature was no more the age of twenty and wore rags, practically bald. The skin was ashen and gray, dead long before the creature started living. Every single bone was visible underneath it’s tough skin. It was amazing that it had so much strength. 

When Lucifer found Azmiriel later, he threw the head at her and grinned. Never again did she question him.

 

He taught himself how to fight. The war lasted years upon years, long after the angels stopped visiting the humans in their bed chambers. But the creatures could breed, and it became apparent that angels had copulated too much with the humans.  
Not a single Nephilim moaned out the name Lucifer.

His interest in the humans were fleeting. They were weak and small and had to have their battles fought by angels. And when he did come to Earth it was only to kill Nephilim, not to speak with any humans. Some angels made friends with the humans but then watched as they were torn away by their mortality.

The war against the Nephilim lasted over two hundred years.

When the last one was killed at was a winter’s day and the earth was scorched. Years ago the Nephilim had become a dying breed, and yet they still dispatched angels and ate humans. Only thirty angels were not in comas by the end of the Nephilim’s reign. When the war began, angels were in the thousands.

Lucifer only killed twelve of them. Michael killed over five hundred, a number not seen by anyone else. He also killed the first and the last one.

It would take many years of the earth to come back to it’s glory. But Lucifer would not go on to see it. He would be locked away a mere three years later when God said that hell needed a permanent tenant. An angel in exile that would never see the sun again. No one knew who it would be, but Lucifer should’ve known.

When he was casted from grace, the last thing he saw was the library. He would never see it again. It’s long dark halls, the books predating him, every single smell of worth he valued in his life. 

Lucifer took the scepter with him when he went. It was his companion and he got rather good at fighting with it. No one else got as good at fighting with it as he did. Still in hell it remains, used for torture on a high pedestal on his throne. 

Some days when he was bored, he’d make it sing to him.


	5. Perennial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer finally approaches Michael Arches - the body that the archangel Michael possesses and tries to get answers about the Nephilim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more chapters to go! Hopefully the rest will have more dialogue, ahh I hate writing dialogue. :) If you like this PLEASE COMMENT! Comments are a massive incentive for me to get out more chapters. I also have some other substories planned so if you like my writing LET ME KNOW! Otherwise it's been a pleasure writing for you guys and have a great day! :))

Lucifer’s life began once more from the middle of a deep sleep. It was getting to be autumn in LA, and even though that didn’t change much in means of setting, it was surprising to him to go to bed with nothing on. With the actions of late the idea of going to bed in anything and waking up to a cold sweat didn’t appeal to him anymore.

The first thing he did was wretch into a bucket next to his bed, wipe the back of his hand across his mouth in mild disgust, and check out his naked back in the mirror. The growths had gotten to the point where by a simple act of willfulness the wings would become invisible. They were each half a foot with limited mobility - simple waving motions - and jet black but beautiful. If he remembered correctly he was the only angel with such a disfiguration. Black wings were a symbol of a deep-rooted disconnect. If God wanted him to be an angel again why make the wings black? It didn’t make any sense.

He groaned and clothed himself then made himself to the top of his penthouse to watch the stars. It wasn’t the act of watching the stars but the symbolic references. The touching of something that was no longer his. Getting as high as possible but still never achieving heaven. Not like he wanted to. 

He didn’t talk to God anymore. He didn’t scream into the high heavens begging for all the things he thought he wanted anymore. No, he had the answers he needed. The only thing else in life that he needed to was to save Chloe’s soul.

Which was horribly depressing and boring.

Lucifer cursed under his breath then looked at the symbolic stars. It was still night - too late to do anything but too early to begin the day. LA was a good view from up here, even though the stars were clouded by pollution. 

Everything around him ringed like heaven. Like Sera’s personal heaven. Like the library that was such a distant version of himself now. He didn’t read anymore. He hadn’t picked up a single book since the last time he had entered that grand hall. Even the familiarity of his scepter was lost to him in hell. The only thing that was really his anymore were these newfound wings and…   
“Maze,” he breathed, feeling her demonic presence.

She practically purred, placing a finger around his collar bone from behind. “Took you long enough.”

“I’m not in the mood tonight Maze,” was all Lucifer said as he turned away from her. 

He could practically feel her annoyance. “Again Lucifer? What’s wrong with you. You don’t enjoy the simple things in life anymore -”

“I haven’t thrown a party in three days Maze, I don’t get how that means my life’s gone to shit. I’ve been...” he thought of the word, “busy. Something came up.”

“Are you going to tell me about it?” She asked. He wanted to. Wanted to divulge all the information he could. But this was something he had to deal with on his own. She didn’t meet the Nephilim. She hardly even met Michael. This was something he had to take care of on his own for the meantime until everything boiled over and she had to know.

He wasn’t even telling his favorite brother the full truth.

Lucifer shook his head, “afraid I can’t. Super-secret police stuff. Don’t worry Maze, it doesn’t infringe in our life so it shouldn’t affect me.”

She clucked her teeth, “whatever affects you affects me, you should know this.” But she then ceased, dropping the discussion. She was a good companion, and instead when to kissing his shoulders. That didn’t bother him as much. “You’re not gonna let this eat you alive are you? We can still have fun.”

“By fun do you mean letting go of steam?” He asked, skin prickling. 

“That and explaining these things on your back -”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me -”

“Are they wings?” Her tone was both accusing and interested mixed with fright. 

He faced her then, stiffening and looking her in the eye. “I’m not going into it, but they’re a gift from dear old dad. Rumor has it he wants to consol with me.” That was all he was going to say.  
“Are you going back to heaven Lucifer?” Maze asked, earnest and dear.

His head shook, “even if he begged I wouldn’t. Hell and Earth are my home's.” Quieter he added, “there is nothing left for me up there. I am a pariah to my own species.”

This didn’t seem to bother Maze who simply perked up even more. Her fingers went to his robes which she peeled away with ease. “Well in that case I think we should celebrate.”   
Lucifer’s brows wiggled. “In what way?”

“In ways that would make God himself cringe.” She snapped, biting at the skin on his chest. His eyes rolled back as her mouth detoured south. Lucifer missed this, this basic act of contact. He wasn’t going to get it anywhere else, not with all the things that have been going on, and so Maze was the best stress reliever.

Especially when she did that one thing with her tongue.

 

When the morning finally became the day Lucifer found himself where he didn’t want to be. It was in the familiarity of the Detective’s presence. His previous actions had found a keenness in her company; the everlasting fact that she was attractive and yet did not bend to his wills. We always want what we cannot have.

Her eyes were the same tired comfort that Lucifer had grown fond of.

“Do you have any information on Michael Arches?” Lucifer asked, appearing outside of her car as she pulled into the station.

A deep-rooted annoyance fell over her for the fact that he was always where he wasn’t supposed to be. “You couldn’t have asked, you know, after I finished work?”

“Girly,” he clucked and shook his head. “I have things to do. My own personal work.”

“I thought you were going to help me today -”

“No.” He said, growing quiet, “not today. Today I have my own matters to attain too, did I not just say that? Do I talk to only hear myse-”

Chloe’s eyes rolled. She was beyond done with his antics. “Whatever Lucifer. It’s fine. I found him.” 

Lucifer’s eyes lit up. “For where do I owe the pleasure of visiting?” 

“You were right. San Francisco. 2145 Wallace St. Please don’t kill him I don’t want to lose my job.” She rambled on, looking in distress at her office building. She’d always rather be somewhere else. Speaking with Lucifer would not suffice, nor would work, nor would her own child. This was not a trait he found in either the Nephilim or in Michael. It was something else entirely, some human aspect that she retained from a distant relative he did not know. 

Relentless, Lucifer thought to himself, naming her. If she was a word it would be Relentless, unceasing, everlasting. She would be perpetually in this state of unrest. How tiring it is to never stop.

“Well I have to go,” he said, wishing nothing more than to leave her side. She was a chore he’d work on another day. The chore of saving of her soul would take time, or it would take moments. No Nephilim had ever been truly saved before.

Her existence was something Lucifer often thought about. How he somehow created her by not allowing her to die all those months ago. It did not make sense to him. How the simple action granted her this awakening.

Perhaps, some voice called to him from the back of his mind. It was the love of an angel that awoke the demon within.

Oh shut the hell up, was all Lucifer growled in response as he made his way towards the golden city. He didn’t need this right now.

 

Michael Arches’ house was less attractive than Lucifer’s and that made him smile from ear to ear. He had beaten his most challenged brother in something in life, even if Michael didn’t realize it. 

It looked just like any other San Francisco little house. This one was red with white trimming, looking almost like a fire department. It fit, in the subconscious, as Michael’s color of choice was always red, just like his hair and his ruby encrusted sword.

Lucifer didn’t learn to love black until he lived in it. He was always more fond of gold, like how his hair used to be before the instances of this life had occurred. The subconscious has a way of working in mysterious ways.

He knocked on the door with such an earnest glee he almost broke it. How he was going to speak to his brother he had no clue, but he knew he was going to enjoy it.

“You can’t be serious,” said a familiar voice and Lucifer felt time slow. “You’re going to attack him in broad daylight? I doubt he even has his memories.”

“Dear brother for what do I owe the raging pleasure!” Lucifer growled estatically, turning around. Amenadiel stood at the base of the steps, face neither happy nor sad. “Maze couldn’t keep you occupied for one single day? You know she kept me rather occupied this morning if I do so say so myself...”

The look that fell of Amenadiel was that of mild agitation, but he flung it off. “Worry not, I’m not here to stop you. I’m here to join you.”

Lucifer rose a brow, “I don’t understand?”

“I’ve never been the biggest fan of him and I’m also here to make sure you don’t tear out his throat, so it’s a win-win,” was all his brother said in response. “So please proceed.” 

Lucifer shrugged, accepting this as fact. He pounded on the door with Amenadiel right at his side. All three brothers would be reunited, and all three of them looked beyond distinctly different.

The man who answered the door did not look like Michael. Well, he did, but he looked like what Michael would look like if he was mixed with Clark Kent. He was tall and muscular with sweeping red hair and thick black rimmed glasses. There was a sureness yet a kindness when he opened the door, that made Lucifer freeze.

He did not want to hate this man. This man looked too nice to be hated.

“Hello?” The man asked, looking at both of them with a furrowed, red brow. His voice was deep and booming, charismatic and charming. “How can I help you gentlemen today?”

“Are you Michael Arches?” Lucifer asked, trying not to be intimidated. He was tall, but this man was staggering over 6’5 and made Lucifer feel puny. Even Amenadiel looked taken aback.   
The man nodded, “yes I am. How can I help you? Is there something you need?”

“Well,” Lucifer said, gulping. “I’m going to punch you now.”

“I don’t -” Michael said before getting his perfect jowls knocked sideways. If Chloe had been nearby Lucifer was sure the hand would’ve broken in a million different pieces. It still hurt to do it, but he felt deeply satisfied when he saw a trickle of blood come from Michael’s nose. Even silent Amenadiel slightly chuckled at the occurrence.

Lucifer streamed into the house, the perfect organized house that screamed Michael. Everything was where it was supposed to be. There were artifacts from thousands of years ago. All the furniture was the same shade of white. All of the walls a shade of red or brown. Nothing seemed out of place.

And Lucifer knew exactly what he was looking for. He found it almost instantaneously, hung up on the wall from a golden chain connected to a clock. The coin shimmered with the face of a roman on it. It was largely symbolic, the tinted silver edges of it. Thirty coins, Lucifer thought. Penance pieces for greater times, God once told him.

He was looking directly at one of the coins that cost Jesus his life. 

And so naturally he ripped it from the wall and shoved it into the face of Michael who had staggered in behind him muttering things Lucifer didn’t understand. “This,” Lucifer screamed, “does this ring a bell to you?”

Something flashed over Michael, like an awakening. His shoulders straightened. “How do you know about this?” He asked in a trance.

“God told me you giant lovestruck moron,” Lucifer whined, still holding the coin inches from his face. “Now talk.”

“I don’t have long baby brother,” Michael cooed. “My memories are fleeting. I’d leave soon, before I wake up again and punch you into oblivion.”

“Don’t start with this shit you mortal. Now talk. I know about your precious Nephilim child. I met her. And I know about your damn lineage. Couldn’t keep it in your pants just once?” Lucifer’s nostrils flared in the way they did when he was deeply upset.

Michael’s head shook and his eyes ceased from Lucifer’s. “There’s nothing I can do anymore. I’ve done my part, it’s your turn. And you already know what you have to do,” his voice was growing strangely foreboding.

“Now tell me what I have to do.” Granted, he wasn’t one to take advice.

“You have to let her go.” And then Michael’s body crumpled to the floor.


End file.
